I thought of you and your love for February this morning as I read this month's chapter of Stillmeadow Seasons by Gladys Taber. She distills February in New England so evocatively, so I ran to your blog to share it with you!
Come now the wild dark days of February when the house seems like a lovely warm little island with winter billowing outside....We used to be timid about going out when the storm was bad, but years have seasoned our spirits. We bundle up, put a pail of sand and a shovel in the car, and sally forth. Jill says when we have to make concessions to the weather, we shall be old. So last week end we went right on to Fay and Andy's in Middlebury, in a black, bleak storm. i admit that I liked the drifted road with the car lights turning the snowbanks to crystal. And the desolate waste of the fields was dramatic under the heavy sky. Every tree was a lithograph in black and white.
A few pages later, the storm is over:
In February, after a big storm, the sun comes out with more brightness than at any other time in the year. The winter sky is pale and far away and the snow is the essence of all the white there is. The glory of the sun, wiht the pale sky and the white snow, is breath-taking. The light has a purity, a dazzling serenity. I like to go out then, and walk up to the mailbox. How beautiful is the world! How fortunate we are, in spite of everything to feel the infinite splendor of a day after storm!
The most beautiful snowstorm is the one that comes when the air is relative mild and the big wet flakes cling to every twig and branch. The trees change to silver and the fields are a soft white sea.
And the gift of quietness is given, for there is no stillness so pure and deep as the stillness of snow. Sounds sink without a ripple in that silence. When Honey and I walk up to the mail, our footfalls are soundless, for only hard snow squeaks.
Honey is a pale gold blur when she runs ahead, and the mailbox is invisible. On my boots the snow falls in a million intricate crystal shapes. It is always a wonder to look at them and mark the infinite splendor of a world where even a snowflake is fashioned with such perfection.
Happy (belated, I think) birthday, and I hope you're having a wonderful February!
Aww, thank you so much! These passages are beautiful. I wish we got more snow where I live, because it really is so beautiful. I am most pleased that I'm the one you think of when it comes to February appreciation <3
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For the post that asks what fic I associate with your username:
I associate you most with The Many Promotions of Firmus Piett because it is, as you know, one of my most favoritest stories ever. :D
<33333 Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoy that story so much. It's probably my only foray into what you might describe as surrealist comedy and I'm quite fond of it myself!
Hmm. Here's a secret about it: the receptionist in chapter 2 was heavily based on my perception of Commander Fox, to the point that I think I was tempted to make him be Fox, even though that wouldn't make sense. He may not actually have been a Coruscant Guard, but he definitely has the attitude to be one!
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen always feels very green to me. I think the cover of the high school library's copy was that color, but it may not have been. Whatever the reason, the association stuck.
I just finished The Silver Chair and thought I’d pop over to let you know I enjoyed it this time through (you said it’s your favorite, recently), and also that I figured out why it was one of my least favorites as a kid. It’s a sort of middle-aged book. I am, of course, referencing Screwtape’s advice to Wormwood that “The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere.” Of all the Narnia books, it’s the one that requires the greatest perseverance from the characters (and thus from me, the reader), with the least “reward” along the way. There are no respites at the Beavers’ house or bright days of sailing in fair weather or rides on a winged horse to break up the slog through marsh and moor and underground maze. Every apparent respite is just more danger and discomfort in disguise. Even the season is the grimmest, hardest part of the year as the tail end of autumn slides into the bleakness of early winter.
And then there are the adventures. I am petrified of snakes, and a serpent plays a prominent role in this story. I am terrified of heights and can’t even watch characters in a movie stand on the edge of a cliff without nausea clawing up my throat, so Eustace falling over the edge of that cliff and Jill flying through the air on Aslan’s breath provoke a deeply uncomfortable physical reaction for me. And I, like Jill, also cannot bear being shut up underground. I identify a little too strongly with her POV to enjoy their trip to the Underland—especially since Lewis keeps emphasizing her discomfort!
But! This time through, I found Puddleglum a hoot. The parliament of owls too, with their odd, backwards view of humans. Jill is incredibly relatable to me, not only because of her fears, but also because she is so ordinary and she bickers with Eustace and she wants a warm bath and a hot meal so badly. That’s exactly how I would feel in a like situation. Her negligence in reviewing the Signs is also more relatable than I like to admit. The enchantment scene with the witch is a brilliant presentation of how secular culture tries to reduce faith to something ridiculous and imitative through denial and mockery. And it’s presented in a way that children can see the flaws in the witch’s words.
As for the “middle-aged” atmosphere—well, I’m old enough now to have hiked my own Ettinsmoor and Underland. I can appreciate the virtues endurance and patience in a way I didn’t as a teen. So all that is to say that I guess I’ve finally grown up enough to appreciate this book. It’s still not the volume I’m most likely to pull off the shelf, what with the physical and emotional discomfort, but I definitely see more in it now.
To clarify: The Silver Chair is my favorite of the BBC miniseries. Of the books, my favorite is The Horse and His Boy.
I think a big part of why I love Silver Chair so much is because it was the first of the BBC adaptations we owned, so I watched it over and over (as well as the animated LWW, which I love aspects of but also recognize that the animation is...special).
But I also identify with Jill most out of all the children, I think. She just seems so normal. She doesn't become a queen. She almost feels like a hero by accident, because she was showing off and ended up being the only one to hear the Signs. I mean, it's all part of Aslan's plan, and none of the children were chosen because they were particularly special (other than that Aslan chose them!). But Jill just feels a bit more relatable to me. Also, everything about forgetting the Signs was really convicting to me as a kid who often thought of Scripture memorization as boring and pointless.
Then there's the climax, with the Queen of Underland almost convincing them there's no Narnia, no sun, no Aslan! But Puddleglum comes to the rescue! His dourness and pessimism, which seemed like little more than a funny sort of character quirk before, turns out to be exactly what they needed at that moment to save the day. And what he says about how he'd rather believe in Aslan, even if he's not real, than the Queen's depressing "reality," has always struck such a deep chord in me.
And then there's Prince Rillian! That whole part where they're all suspicious but then he says Aslan's name sends chills down my spine to this day.
And then, specifically from the BBC version...I honestly can't imagine anyone better than Tom Baker for Puddleglum, and Barbara Kellerman is a fantastic Green Lady/Queen of Underland (and White Witch, but that's a whole other post).
Anyway, I never thought of Silver Chair as being "middle-aged," though I see what you mean. Maybe I've just always been an old soul or something XD Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
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Copy the fourth sentence from the tenth page of the nearest book. Copy the tenth sentence from the fourth page of the same book. Write a story that begins and ends with those sentences.
You're in luck, fellow Star Wars fan! The book currently sitting on the corner of my desk is Jedi Apprentice: The Day of Reckoning by Jude Watson, so you get a mini Star Wars fic ;) This was really fun, because it gave me an excuse to bring a couple of my old Jedi RP characters out of mothballs for this. I never really did much with them, but I think I'm even more fond of them after writing this.
The harsh command came from behind them. “Open fire!”
Even as those words registered, the Force surged through Ja'Lin, warning her to drop to the ground and roll out of the way. Blaster fire seared the dirt where she had been a moment before. Lin rolled to her feet, fingers fumbling slightly on the hilt of her lightsaber as she whipped it out. The glow of the lightsaber, as blue as her own skin, reassured her as she deflected the next several laser blasts.
Shock rippled through her as she suddenly realized she wasn't fighting more droids. The ones firing at her were the clone troopers. Their own soldiers.
Letting the Force guide her movements, Lin's eyes darted around, searching for Hor-Ka. But he was nowhere in sight.
“Master!” she screamed, struggling to get to her feet as she fended off the furious attack. “Master Fell!”
Icy shards of fear cut into her heart. The path was rocky, hemmed in by boulders. It was easy to lose one's footing. What if Hor-Ka had been hit? What if he'd fallen, and broken a bone? Again?
What if...he couldn't help her? What if she was all alone?
Fear slowed down her movements, and one blaster bolt made it past her lightsaber. Pain stabbed into her left shoulder, surprising a cry of pain from her. Now every time she raised her lightsaber, agony blazed all the way down her arm.
The chill rose up her throat, making it hard to breathe except in painful gasps. No...she couldn't do this. She'd already been nervous about the war, even with her master by her side. But without him.... She wasn't a full Jedi Knight yet! She couldn't do this on her own!
Alone? Never alone are you, with the Force as your ally. Protect you, it will. Guide you. When all others fall away, always with you, the Force will be.
Yoda's familiar voice filled her head, as if he were whispering directly into her ear. Just like so many times as a youngling, when they would sit in the meditation room, while Master Yoda strolled around them, his soft words punctuated by the tapping of his cane.
As the Force flowed through her, she let go of the desperate need to control her breathing. And as her loud gasps subsided, she heard a faint sound, just like the tapping of Yoda's cane....
Without glancing over, Lin became aware that Hor-Ka stood on one of the tall, thin spires of rock that towered over the path. She could feel the Force building up around him, like a tidal wave gathering itself up to roll toward the shore. Lin let herself be swept up in its flow, letting the inexorable power of that wave take over her body.
For a few brief moments, there was no pain, there was no fear. Nothing but the grounded certainty that she was doing exactly what she needed to.
The cresting wave crashed down upon the squad of troopers that were supposed to be aiding them. The ground beneath their feet cracked and crumbled, sending the soldiers to their knees. Their blaster fire went awry as they struggled to keep their feet.
A huge chunk of the path they'd just traversed collapsed in on itself, the rock almost seeming to melt away into a huge sinkhole. Crying out, scrabbling for purchase on the disintegrating stone around them, the soldiers fell one by one into the hole, instantly covered up by the wreckage of the pathway that had been solid rock a moment before.
Breathing hard as the overpowering wave of the Force passed on by, Lin deactivated her lightsaber. Her shoulder barely hurt anymore. In the ringing silence, she could distinctly hear Hor-Ka muttering irritably to himself from atop his spire of rock. She looked up just in time to see him step off the top of the rock and let himself fall, cushioning himself carefully with the Force so that he dropped gently to the ground. When his feet hit the ground, he staggered slightly, barely catching himself on his cane.
“Master!” Lin cried, hurrying to his side and grabbing his arm to offer her support.
It was a mark of how much that impressive show had taken out of him that Hor-Ka let her draw his thin arm about her shoulders for support without a word of complaint. She could feel him trembling slightly, though she wasn't sure if it was just from exertion or from the realization of what had just happened.
What had just happened?
“Master...they were supposed to be on our side.”
Hor-Ka snorted, hobbling over to the edge of the sinkhole he'd just created. “Clearly, they're not. Not anymore.”
Lin swallowed hard. “What do we do now?”
Hor-Ka looked down at her with a pensive frown. Lin looked steadily back up at her master's leathery-skinned face, at the familiar wrinkles and bony ridges. Once, his near-constant frown and at times harsh words had frightened her, but after the years they'd been together, she'd learned to look past the rough exterior to the warm regard and concern in those black eyes.
“Something very dark is afoot,” Hor-Ka finally said, turning to cast his gaze around their desolate surroundings. “I'm not sure what it is yet, but we'll need to be very careful until we know what's going on. Whoever ordered these troopers to turn on us will certainly notice when they don't report in with proof of our demise.”
Fear pricked at Lin's chest again, but it was much less overwhelming with Hor-Ka by her side. She knew that whatever was going on, they could face it together, just as they always had before. “So...you mean....”
With a grim nod, Hor-Ka turned and began to limp farther down the path. His leg had barely healed from the last time he'd broken it, and it looked like it was paining him again, but he pushed on without a word of complaint. Lin said nothing, just kept pace with him and offered him the support of her arm. “We'll have to go into hiding,” Hor-Ka grunted, limping along as fast as he could. “At least until we know what's happened.”
“You mean...we can't let anyone know we're Jedi?”
Hor-Ka nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “So no more displays like that for me. Nothing flashy or obvious with the Force. No lightsabers. We can't use our real names, either. We'll have to come up with a cover story, too—can't just pass you off as my daughter, not as a Twi'lek.”
Lin smiled shakily. “I wouldn't be your daughter, anyway.”
“How's that?”
“Your granddaughter, maybe.”
Hor-Ka gave her a sharp glance that once would have made her cringe and hang her head. But she held his gaze, knowing that the harrumph he gave her was tantamount to an appreciative laugh. “Well, whatever you are, you're definitely adopted.”
By the time they finally made it back to the spaceport, they were both exhausted. They kept to the shadows and the back alleys of the little town, afraid that someone would recognize them as the Jedi who had come to liberate this planet from the Separatist occupation.
Lin hated slinking around like this, but she had to think of Hor-Ka's safety as well as her own. For now, they would slip aboard a trading vessel and try to make it somewhere they could find out what was going on. Hopefully, they could blend in with the crowds of refugees and other people displaced by the war. They wore nondescript cloaks over their tunics and kept their lightsabers hidden.
